


It's For The Best

by GoatMyBoat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fukunaga does not use sign language, Fukunaga isn't mute, Fukunaga makes some jokes throughout all chapters of this fic but I don't do the Joke Master justice, Fukutora, Hurt, I don't know what their actual ship name is, Internalized Homophobia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Once again it's gay, Swearing in later chapters, Torafuku, Yamamoto is trying his best, a lot worse, as someone who doesn't know how to, he doesn't know how to gay, he just doesn't talk much, he signs and gestures the way I would, masturbation in chapter 3 but only a little, mentions of levyaku and kuroken, mentions of sex with details later on, nobody's that funny, somebody please help Yamamoto, this ship needs to become more popular omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28602786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoatMyBoat/pseuds/GoatMyBoat
Summary: Yamamoto and Fukunaga are good friends, but they both want to be something more than that. However, what happens if one of them isn't necessarily ready for that yet?
Relationships: Fukunaga Shouhei/Yamamoto Taketora
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fukunaga really likes Yamamoto from the faces he makes to the loud volumes he speaks at. He is ready to go home from school when something unimaginable happens and changes his life.

“Fukunaga!” 

Fukunaga glanced up from the photo on his phone to see the one he had been admiring charging at him like a bullet train. A very loud and sweaty bullet train that looked like he might trip over his own feet at any given moment, at that. He thought it was comical how disorganized Yamamoto looked in this state, sort of cute, in a sense. His lips pulled to form a small smile. He stood up from his seat on the bench at the bus stop and took a few steps towards his friend, so the latter could halt sooner and maybe not die in the process. Especially if what Yamamoto had to say was important.

Slowing down to a stop, Yamamoto took a considerably brief moment to catch his breath, hunching over and resting his hands on his knees. Fukunaga figured by how much the former was sweating that it would probably be helpful to try to cool him off. He slid his backpack off of his shoulders and unzipped it, pulling out a water bottle before zipping the bag back up. Tapping on Yamamoto’s shoulder to get his attention, he offered him the bottle which made Yamamoto smile wide.

“Thanks, man!” Yamamoto accepted the bottle as Fukunaga swung his bag back over his shoulders. When he went to open the bottle, he noticed that it felt like it was already half-empty. Looking back up at the boy who was now fanning him with his hands, he paled slightly. “Did you… did you already drink from this?”

Fukunaga nodded in confirmation but tilted his head to the side and fanned more vigorously once Yamamoto started sweating again. Personally, he didn’t see what the big deal was with sharing a water bottle with him, not when he had seen him share water bottles with their other teammates on numerous occasions. Actually, now that he thought about it, the two of them had only shared drinks a few times in their first year, but that had stopped near the end of it. He never knew the reasoning behind that, and he was certain if he asked, Yamamoto wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

Not that he would ever want anything  _ straight  _ from the man, anyways.

Heh. 

With much reluctance, Yamamoto nodded -more to himself, it seemed- and took a swig from the bottle, his cheeks flushing once his mouth made contact with the lid. Fukunaga continued to fan his face, watching intently as his friend drank, studying Yamamoto’s lips and his throat when he swallowed. It was always fun to watch him because Yamamoto was very… expressive, if you will, and now was no exception as he looked like he was going to die from dehydration and drown at the same time.

Fukunaga stifled a laugh. But his face flushed ever so slightly when he realized,  _ ‘we just second-hand kissed.’ _

Then, suddenly, Yamamoto lowered the bottle and straightened his back to swipe at his brow, the sweat that once dribbled there now held to his jacket sleeve. Now, more red than ever, he bellowed, “Oh, I forgot! I need your help with Kenma! He got hurt behind the school and Kuroo had to stay after school with a teacher, so he can’t help! Please come with me!”

Fukunaga stared at the stressed boy, perplexed. The tone of the plea kind of reminded him of a robot, stiff and loud. Yamamoto was so strange. However, it wasn’t very often the loud boy got all freaked out like this, so he agreed to assist in any way that he could. At least he showed that willingness when he nodded in the direction of the back of the school and said, “let’s go” before running after Yamamoto who had already started darting away.

_ ‘It must be terrible,’ _ Fukunaga thought to himself, picking up his pace in an attempt to catch up to a panicking Yamamoto.  _ ‘So then why did he waste so much time with drinking from my bottle?’ _

They arrived at the crime scene after a few minutes and Fukunaga couldn’t suppress his confusion when he found they were the only people here. Turning to his friend who was visibly shaking and avoiding eye contact, he took a moment to catch his breath. 

“Where’s Kenma?” he finally asked, innocently surveying the area to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

Yamamoto tensed. “He’s, uh… Well, um… He kind of, maybe, already left school with Kuroo.”

Fukunaga stared at him, unsure of what he just heard. He figured that his face must have given him away because Yamamoto audibly gulped, his eyes darting between his shoes and Fukunaga’s face.

“I know you’re, uh... p-probably wondering why I told you all that stuff and made a big deal of something that...that I made up,” Yamamoto started, nervously, his throat betraying him by making his voice sound scratchy. “If I’m honest, it’s really dumb. Like, I didn’t need to do this for what I w-wanted, but I just didn’t… I… I just wanted to t-talk to you.”

Fukunaga scrunched his face up, illustrating just how confused he was about this. What? He gestured back to where they had come from and Yamamoto shook his head in response, knowing what he meant by it.

“No, I meant I wanted to talk to you…  _ alone _ , you know?”

Fukunaga’s eyes widened a little. What did he mean by that? Was this going to be a good talk, perhaps one that involved the exchange of a deep and personal secret? It sure seemed personal by the look on Yamamoto’s face. In that case, was this secret about a girl he liked or about a body he needed to bury? Although he wasn’t sure if he was the loud boy’s best friend, he was certain that they had grown considerably close with one another, so either extreme could be plausible. On the flip side, could this be a talk about something he did wrong? Did he do something wrong?

Through the panic, Yamamoto’s eyes locked onto Fukunaga’s, revealing to Fukunaga that what he was about to say was sincere and important. He took a deep breath and a small step towards the taller boy, shuffling his feet shyly in place. “Remember how I said I couldn’t see the appeal of guys? Y-you know, like in a romantic or, uh, sexual kind of way?”

Fukunaga nodded, for he did remember that. So this was a conversation about a secret, then. How endearing! He was relieved because he was not excited about having to dispose of a corpse, not that he actually thought that Yamamoto could be capable of something so terrible. Honestly, he didn't know if he would be able to do that for Yamamoto -or anyone, for that matter- anyways, so this worked out much better for him.

Wait, was this going where he thought this was going?

“Well, I found an… um…  _ exception. _ ” Yamamoto stopped when Fukunaga gasped and lightly clapped for him, a bright smile on his face. He smiled back momentarily before his features turned dead serious, startling his quiet friend from the drastic change in atmosphere. “But you have to promise me that until I’m ready to say anything, you won’t tell anyone any of this!”

Fukunaga nodded in agreement, raising his left hand in the air and dragging his index finger on his right hand to trace an ‘X’ over his heart.

“Good.” Yamamoto closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clearly thinking of the best way to say what he wanted to tell Fukunaga. He looked so concentrated (which was cute, but Fukunaga feared he was going to hurt himself from over-exertion). However, when he opened his eyes and saw Fukunaga watching him in suspense of what he was to say, he lost his cool. “Didyoumaybewanttodateme?” he blurted out all at once, the look on his face making it obvious that he instantly regretting it.

Fukunaga blinked. And then he deciphered what Yamamoto had tried to say, resulting in his face burning up immensely. Did he hear him right? Did his crush actually like him too? That couldn’t be right, could it? The awkward shuffling of Yamamoto’s feet and the way he looked like his life depended on Fukunaga’s answer was evidence enough to make him believe so. But what brought on this sudden change?

Since when did Yamamoto have a crush on him?

That was a weird word to describe liking someone. A crush. Why was it called that? It just sounded so aggressive and- holy shit. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t fight back the laugh that bubbled in his throat when something brilliant came to his mind.

“Is this why you were in such a c- _ rush _ to talk to me?”

Yamamoto scrunched up his face, flabbergasted by what Fukunaga had just said. The unprompted response just came out of nowhere minutes after he had confessed his feelings so he was quite caught off-guard, unaware if he was being rejected or not. However, the only thing that managed to bring him out of this confusing pit of uncertainty was the soft laughter that was still filling the air behind Fukunaga's fist.  “You really gotta work on your timing, man!” Yamamoto complained, his shaky hands getting clammier as he anxiously awaited a legitimate response to his question. “But if that’s your way of telling me you’re not interested then just  _ say _ it! We can just pretend this never happened and- huh?”

Fukunaga had silenced him by placing his index finger against the moving lips. He wondered what it would be like to taste them. “I would like to date you, too.”

“Really!? You mean it!?”

At Fukunaga’s nod, Yamamoto beamed and squished his new boyfriend’s torso, earning himself soft giggles and pained groans from the taller boy. When he had finally let him go, his face slowly lost its happy glow, a look of terror covering its tracks as he quickly scanned the area. Fukunaga copied him but couldn’t find anything out of place or necessarily wrong with where they were, only that a teacher was exiting the school.

Wanting to not only know what was wrong with Yamamoto but to comfort him as well, Fukunaga reached for the former’s hand, only to have it violently torn away from him once he made contact.

Noticing the surprised look on Fukunaga’s face, Yamamoto sighed, guiltily. “Sorry, but could we just not do anything couple-related when we’re outside? I still don’t want anyone to know that I’m not… well, you know.”

Fukunaga couldn’t help but feel a little offended by the request, but he agreed, nonetheless. He didn't want to make his new boyfriend uncomfortable, especially since they had literally just started dating. That would be terrible! Not to mention he promised not to say anything until Yamamoto was ready.

“Thanks, you’re the best!” Yamamoto told him, relief covering his features. “I promise this won’t last too long, okay? I just want some time to be able to adjust, if that makes any sense.”

Fukunaga smiled at him and nodded, reassured by his sentiment.

He just hoped Yamamoto stuck to his side of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamamoto and Fukunaga have been dating for a while now and while Yamamoto thinks everything is going great, Fukunaga has to disagree.

It had been just under five months since that day and Fukunaga didn’t know what to do anymore.

Sure, he was happy with Yamamoto, that was a given. Yamamoto comforted him when he was sad, encouraged him when he felt defeated and unmotivated, held him when they were watching movies or going to sleep, danced with him when a funky song came on the radio, laughed at his jokes when he understood them, confessed what he imagined their future to look like, etc.

However, it was never the same when they were outside the comfort of each other’s houses. He was  _ still _ waiting for the day he would be able to hold his boyfriend’s hand and kiss him goodbye when Yamamoto walked him to his house after practice. Both actions remained taboo to the outside world, and it hurt him that there had been no progress made in all this time. If anything, Yamamoto had gotten a little  _ too _ comfortable in the void of Fukunaga’s patience and sympathy, seemingly deciding that there was no longer any point in trying to accept his bisexuality. 

But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part, the thing that made him feel the absolute shittiest was that Yamamoto still wanted to tell everyone about their relationship milestones. Their first date, first kiss, first time they slept over at the other’s house as a couple. That was fine, right? That was normal. There’s nothing wrong with being happy enough in your relationship to want to tell everyone you know about it. And he would have been fine with it too if he didn’t become a nameless female in Yamamoto’s recounts. Every. Single. Time.

At first, it wasn’t too much of a problem because Yamamoto explained that he just wasn’t ready for everyone to know yet, but he would be soon. Fukunaga scoffed to himself. How naive was he to believe that there would ever be a time when Yamamoto would  _ let _ himself be ready? The time he brought it up, he was told to just give Yamamoto time, to not forcibly rush the slow and steady journey he was on to accept himself. Fukunaga felt guilty after that conversation (he knew that wasn’t Yamamoto’s intention) so he dropped it, and failed to bring it up any time he was hurt by it.

Even now, as he lay in bed on Monday morning too sore from the previous night’s activities to get up and go to school, he felt hurt. He felt betrayed, maybe  _ angry _ even, when Kenma texted him with tidings of Yamamoto finally losing his virginity to some hot chick he’s been talking to. Even if it wasn’t technically cheating, he still felt like Yamamoto wanted these fantasy women more than him, regardless if Yamamoto assured him that wasn’t true. But with each new story, Fukunaga wished he was a girl more, so Yamamoto could talk about him confidently.

Another reason Fukunaga was bothered by Yamamoto telling everyone about the progress he was making with women was because he was denied the chance to do the same as a result. It would be too suspicious if they both lost their first kiss and virginity on the same nights as one another. So, without any discussion between them, he kept his happiness and pride to himself as his boyfriend spoke of his relentlessly about women that didn’t even exist.

That was when his phone  _ ‘dinged’.  _

Lazily picking the device up off of his mattress, Fukunaga’s brows furrowed when he saw the name  **‘Tora the Explorer’** pop up on the screen. There used to be a heart emoji at the end of the name but Yamamoto asked him to remove it in case anyone else saw it. At this point in time, he was sure he would have erased it of his own will if it was still there.

Despite the nagging voice within him demanding that he ignore his boyfriend, he was curious by nature and gave in to the temptation to see what the man had said. Clicking on the notification, he read Yamamoto’s message.

**_Babe I don’t know if Kenma told you or not but I told him that I lost my virginity_ **

Fukunaga was about to respond when another text popped up.

**_He asked me with who and I panicked and said it was with a girl but I don’t know if he told anyone_ **

With all the things running through his mind, Fukunaga bit his lip. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or shout, yet he didn’t do either. Instead, he stared at his screen for a minute as he thought up something to say, occasionally deleting the words that his bitter heart had randomly wedged in there. A few more minutes passed before he was finally satisfied with what he had typed, so he clicked send.

**_I know. He told me. I’m just happy you liked what we did so much_ **

Although he had meant what he said, Fukunaga couldn’t help but feel like crying. Why didn’t the sex help? Was he bad in bed? Did he do something wrong during it? Was it because he didn’t really let him hear him moan? Why was Yamamoto still trying to convince everyone he was straight when he told Fukunaga he knew for a fact now that he “definitely liked guys too”? 

Last night was supposed to be special, the first milestone that  _ Fukunaga _ would be known for reaching with him. At least that was what they had discussed beforehand with Yamamoto promising that would be the case.

Maybe Yamamoto should stop making promises he wasn’t in the position to keep. And maybe Fukunaga should have half a clue not to believe in them.

His phone started ringing, but it was his FaceTime ringtone instead of his regular one. He frowned. Yamamoto had always insisted that if they were going to talk over the phone, it would have to be a video call since Fukunaga didn’t talk enough for it not to be awkward. Also, it allowed Yamamoto to depict how he was feeling through his facial expressions. Hence, why he didn’t want to answer. But it wasn’t like he could pretend he was sleeping, having already proven he was awake by responding to Yamamoto’s texts. Sighing, he sat up in his bed with a pained gasp and answered the call.

“Hey, babe!” Yamamoto chirped, happily, his smile bright enough to make his boyfriend’s lips curve upwards. When Fukunaga waved, he continued. “How are you feeling?”

Fukunaga thought about that for a moment. How was he feeling? Well, he was still hurt and frustrated by Yamamoto’s actions for sure, yet he was feeling giddy and lovesick from seeing him and hearing his voice. Why was he like this? He was literally just heartbroken! Unable to come to a definitive answer, he shrugged his shoulders.

Yamamoto chuckled. “You don’t know?” When Fukunaga shrugged again, he caught sight of the frown on his face and the way he glanced down momentarily; both signs that told him something was eating at his quiet lover. Not to mention how he was chewing on his bottom lip. Unsure of what it was, he grew concerned. “You sure? You seem pretty upset.”

Fukunaga shook his head. What was he supposed to say? He could tell by Yamamoto’s background on his screen that the latter was outside, presumably still at school, which meant it wasn’t a good time to vent, especially if it was most likely to start a fight between them. But not wanting to lie to his boyfriend, he pointed to himself before lightly punching his other hand and then cradling it as he fake sniffled.

“You’re hurt?” Yamamoto asked after a moment of consideration. He found himself frowning and growing worried when Fukunaga nodded. “Like, you’re emotionally hurt, or you’re hurt because I fucked you last night?”

Holding up three fingers to show he meant both options one and two, Fukunaga nodded.

There was silence for a moment and in that short period of time, Yamamoto’s face filled with panic and dread. Just as Fukunaga had anticipated and feared. Yamamoto quickly evaluated his surroundings before he lowered his voice. That probably meant there was somebody near him, but he wanted to still be able to speak tenderly to his boyfriend. The idea of that was both cute and frustrating for Fukunaga.

“Baby, why are you hurt?”

Fukunaga shook his head in an attempt to end the conversation. “You’re at school.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Yamamoto exclaimed, right before the bell rang. He glanced around again, presumably to ensure he was still in the clear. “If we push it off for later, you’ll be upset all day! Besides, the team wants to hang out after school. That includes  _ you _ . Assuming you’re able to move, that is. But I’d rather talk this out with you!” The last part was hurriedly added when he realized how off track he was getting.

Fukunaga sighed, and once again shrugged. _We'll see._

There was a distant voice heard from Yamamoto’s end that made him look at the person before running an annoyed hand through his Mohawk. Dreadfully returning his attention back to Fukunaga, he groaned. “Okay, I gotta go now; I’m ‘bout to get in shit for skipping, but we’ll talk afterwards okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Bye.”

Fukunaga waved goodbye and hung up, pressing the red button on his screen and dropping his phone on his bed. Why did Yamamoto have to be so cute? The latter was usually willing to talk things out and try to fix any and all problems in their relationship, sometimes a bit  _ too _ eagerly. That’s what made him feel like he was in the wrong for being upset about this, having understood that their relationship would be a secret in the beginning. And he really wasn’t trying to rush Yamamoto. 

Actually, once he thought about it, he supposed he was.

That was wrong, wasn’t it? He shouldn’t be forcing Yamamoto into something that he wasn’t ready for, Instead, he should be ready to support him through any problems he faced along the way. Yamamoto would do the same for him, that much he knew. But he did that for Yamamoto already, except he would ask about his progress every once in a while. Wasn’t it good to check in, especially if the other man made it clear through false assurances that he wasn’t working on it on his own? If not, he would make sure to apologize for pressuring him.

Shifting in his bed after having sat there in silence for nearly ten minutes, he decided that he wouldn’t be attending the team’s hangout, the pain in his ass shooting down his legs. He groaned. How was he supposed to get out of his bed to make food if he could barely move in his bed without wincing? Well, there was only one way to find out.

Slowly, he stood up, gasping and wincing when the pain intensified. He knew he should have made Yamamoto be more gentle. His legs were a bit wobbly, and he felt like they were made of Jell-O, that comparison being the only thing to unclench his jaw as he let out a small giggle. 

“ _ Jell-O _ ,” he quietly greeted no one, his snickering granting him more pain and discomfort. But it was worth it, he decided. A good joke was  _ always _ worth the physical pain that was sure to come after because it granted temporary happiness. And it was always good to be happy.

Taking a deep breath and all the time in the world, he made his way out of his room. In this process, he quickly discovered that he now had walked with a limp. How lovely. If his mother came home and saw him like this, he would have to lie and tell her he fell, despite her deeming him bed-ridden after he lied to her this morning by saying that he was feeling sick. It seemed like a consistent thing that came from his relationship with Yamamoto was all the lying that was involved. Did Yamamoto hate it as much as he did? He really figured not.

Cautiously, he manoeuvred down what felt to be a never-ending staircase to his main floor, taking a moment to lean against the wall for support. Was it supposed to hurt this bad? He assumed it was supposed to be uncomfortable as he remembered overhearing Yaku telling Kuroo that it was. Wait, didn’t Yaku have a sleepover with Lev the night before that conversation happened?

Huh. Well, then. Good for them.

Hearing his stomach grumble, he pushed off of the wall and began his journey once again. The only thing that stopped him from grabbing food once he finally made it to the kitchen was the doorbell ringing. Fukunaga froze. Was he expected to answer that? That he wasn’t sure of. Why would anyone come to the house now when his parents were at work? A salesperson, perhaps? But that would mean they weren’t listening to the ‘No Soliciting’ sticker on their front door window. How rude of them.

Letting his curiosity take over yet again and ignoring his stomach, he used the wall to get him back to the door he had passed on his way down. Unlocking said door, he opened it to find the handsome figure of his boyfriend standing there, holding a plastic shopping bag in his hand.

“Hey, Shohei! Wait, why are you out of bed?” Yamamoto asked, looking like he was ready to catch Fukunaga should he fall. “I thought your mom was here with you?” When Fukunaga shook his head, his jaw dropped in concern. “Why would she leave you here by yourself?”

Fukunaga pointed to his temple, then to himself before he wrapped his arms around his stomach and grimaced.

“She thinks you're sick?” At Fukunaga’s confirmation, Yamamoto nodded in understanding. “Still, someone should be here with you! Did you want me to hang out for a bit? It’s lunch right now.”

Fukunaga was about to decline the offer, not wanting Yamamoto to be late for school when Yamamoto suggested that they “could use this time to talk”. Checking the clock on the wall behind him, he found that there was still a good thirty-two minutes left of lunch. That should be fine, assuming they didn’t talk for too long. Moving out of the way, he let Yamamoto into his house, closing the door behind him and locking it.

He led Yamamoto to his couch where he was given the plastic bag once the latter sat down. Confused, he peered into the bag and was met with the delectable sight of a styrofoam container, but it was the smell that drew the corners of his mouth up into a bubbly smile. Removing it from the bag, he sat down next to his boyfriend (with some assistance from Yamamoto) and opened the container to see what he was smelling, his mouth watering at the result.

“The school was having a special and when I saw the dried squid, I knew I had to get it for you,” Yamamoto explained, trying not to laugh at how animated Fukunaga’s face became, plastered with a look of pure happiness as he nodded his thanks. “I figured you’d especially like it because you said you were upset.”

Fukunaga’s face softened. Why was his boyfriend such a sweetheart? But seeing the new expectant look on Yamamoto’s features, his own smile dropped to a frown. Did they have to talk about it right now? Yamamoto probably thought this was about something new and not the reoccurring issue that haunted him since they had initially started dating. And he was in the middle of feeling guilty for feeling how he did, so he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to bring it up anymore.

Noticing his boyfriend’s expression, Yamamoto rubbed his back soothingly. “We can chat after you eat, okay?”

And so he ate. Yamamoto talked them through his meal -having already eaten his own lunch on the bus- as he ranted about how annoying his teacher was with the amount of homework he’d been assigned. And then he told him about how much he missed him. Apparently, he had been thinking about Fukunaga all day and what they did last night, even bragging to Kenma about how great it felt. And that led to him telling Kenma that he should let Kuroo get a piece of him.  Fukunaga nodded in agreement to that last point. Kenma made it obvious that he wanted Kuroo and the two gossiping lovers agreed that they needed to fuck and date already.

“They’ve known each other for their entire lives and  _ neither _ of them has made a move?” Yamamoto rhetorically asked, exasperated. Fukunaga thought his passion was adorable and had to hold back a smile so as not to throw him off track with his rant. That was not very hard to do. “It’s fucking ridiculous if you ask me. I mean, I was able to ask you out after only knowing you for a  _ year. _ I think it’s fair to say that if  _ I  _ can muster up enough courage to do it, then Kuroo could have done it at least a hundred times over!”

Fukunaga held the food in his mouth and hesitantly nodded before he slowly swallowed it, no longer in the mood for the remainder of his favourite dish. He contemplated challenging his boyfriend’s argument with how he reacted to coming out, but in the end, he decided that it wasn’t his place to say anything. Well, sure, he had to accept that he himself was gay, but he knew that the level of difficulty in finding that acceptance varied from person to person. That actually made him consider something he had never thought of before, something he probably should have acknowledged from day one.

Placing his food on the table in front of him his eyes fixated on his hands that were now growing clammy from the nervous sweat he was emitting. Yuck. Tensing up, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves and spoke before he had the opportunity to second-guess himself. “Should we take a break?”

“Whaddaya mean?” Yamamoto asked, blinking in confusion. He still wasn’t used to Fukunaga changing topics on him like that. “Like, with lunch? School? Or…?”

Fukunaga sighed in dread, solemnly shaking his head, his gaze never lifting from his hands. That was until Yamamoto reached over and held onto both of his in one hand, or as much as he could, anyway. When he looked up to meet the tender, loving eyes of his boyfriend, his gut pooled with guilt. How could he even suggest doing such a thing when this man loved him through and through, adoring all the things that annoyed or bothered their peers? This man who made him look at himself in a brighter light and feel comfortable around him to talk more than he did with anyone else? Not that he needed to speak more since Yamamoto had also taken the time to memorize his body language. Why did he have to be so good to him?

But with that expectant, uneasy stare piercing through him, he figured that this wasn’t something that could be brushed aside so easily. Inevitably, one of them would bring it up and the conversation would have to be had then, rather than now, which almost sounded convincing to him. Yet, he didn’t think it would be worth it if he was thinking about this the whole time that Yamamoto thought there was nothing wrong. So, he let go of his own hand and held onto Yamamoto’s, the sweat he forgot to wipe off coating Yamamoto’s palm.

“Us,” Fukunaga mumbled, his heart begging him to shut his mouth and play dumb, to take back what he said so as not to make what it saw as the biggest mistake of his life. And he was convinced it was right when Yamamoto’s confusion faded into pained horror.

Yamamoto opened his mouth to speak, but then he closed it, not knowing what he felt he needed to say. Fukunaga thought it made him look like a sad, offended fish. He swallowed the lump in his throat when he finally found the words he wanted to say, taking a deep breath before he said them out loud. 

“S-so,” Yamamoto started, his voice sounding more like a croak than anything else, his eyes begging for this to be nothing more than a nightmare. “You’re...you’re b-breaking up with me?”

Ignoring his suffocating heart once again, Fukunaga nodded. He lifted his hands in order to make gestures for what he thought to say, but he couldn't go through with it due to Yamamoto's grip on the appendage tightening.

"No, use your  _ words _ !  _ Tell _ me what I did wrong!" Yamamoto's voice cracked on the last word, his emotions managing to destroy the barrier that kept them within himself. It was clear to Fukunaga that he was most likely going to start crying soon, a sight he couldn't imagine seeing and didn't desire to see. He inhaled, his breathing gradually becoming heavier and his grip tighter. Seeing the alarmed look on his soon-to-be ex's features, his lip quivered. "Please! I need to  _ hear _ it from you. I need to hear that you..." He found difficulty in keeping his cool, his voice failing him when he needed it most. Inhaling deeper than before, he tried again, his eyes occasionally glancing at the hand holding his own. "... That you don't lo- that you don’t  _ want _ me anymore and  _ why _ ."

Fukunaga’s chest and throat tightened at the desperate display, his heart and his brain ridiculing him for getting himself into this mess. It had to be done, right? This was a normal thing he heard happening in his peers’ relationships. Kuroo and Yaku had actually told all those younger than them that sometimes space was what was needed in order for the relationship to thrive. Then again, they were both currently single, so was it really the best thing to listen to their advice?

As much as he wanted to argue against it, he believed that this was the only thing he could do to help Yamamoto, whether it killed him to do it or not. And it was  _ really _ killing him to do this.

Yamamoto started trembling, his hold on Fukunaga’s hand almost hurting the latter. He was not taking any time to wonder if this was fake and thank the gods for that because Fukunaga couldn’t imagine how painful that would be to explain. “Please, baby. I at least deserve to know what I did, r-right? What did I do to make you think that being alone is better than b-being with  _ me! _ ”

Now both of them were on the verge of crying. Fukunaga couldn’t believe how much this impacted Yamamoto, not that he thought that he didn’t care about him, only that he never assumed it would break him this much so quickly. What was he doing? He should be hugging his boyfriend not making his ex cry. He shouldn’t have an ex in the first place and yet, he knew it had to be done. This was for the betterment of Yamamoto, even if the latter clearly didn’t want it.

He felt like a parent and it hurt.

_ Everything hurt. _

“So?” Yamamoto pressed, his anticipation adding more emotion to his appearance and voice, his leg bouncing from how anxious he was. “Why are you doing this? I thought we were  _ happy _ together…”

“I… I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore,” Fukunaga confessed, simply, catching Yamamoto off guard. Now whether it was the words or the tears that raced down his cheeks that shocked the latter more was beyond him. “I want to be your  _ boy _ friend.”

“ _ Whaaaat? _ ” Yamamoto asked, trying to comprehend the mess of mismatched words being thrown at him. He shook his head when he remembered who had said it, indicating it made some sense and that he should have expected that. “Are you trans? If you are, that’s cool, but I had no idea!” He misinterpreted Fukunaga when the quiet boy’s eyes widened and his head cocked to the side. “Wait, if you don’t want to be my girlfriend anymore, does that mean that you were a girl, but  _ now _ you’re a boy? Why didn’t you tell me you were a girl? Baby, if that’s the problem then-”

Fukunaga vigorously shook his head, denying all claims and cutting Yamamoto off. What the hell just happened and who in their right mind let it go on for as long as it did? He knew Yamamoto wasn’t the most perceptive person, but this just showed how much he didn’t understand. But on the flip side, at least he knew he would be accepted if he ever wanted to switch between genders. Yamamoto was so sweet.

“Did I get the order of the genders wrong?”

“No, I’m a boy. I’ve never felt like a girl.”

“... Oh. So, then why the hell would ya say something like that!?”

Fukunaga chewed on his lip. Well, this backfired. He thought that what he had said was pretty straight-forward but sticking to his character, Yamamoto read into it too much and was way off. That was always funny. Even now, he sort of thought it was. But the look on Yamamoto’s face sobered him up and reminded him that there was nothing to find funny right now. Especially the fact that he wasted his words saying something that just made the other boy even more confused and hurt.

“Shohei,” Yamamoto’s voice cut in. “Could you try again, or explain that? Please? With  _ words? _ ”

Fukunaga sighed but nodded nonetheless. If only he had gotten it right the first time. “When you tell people about the things we do, I always become some hot girl.” He didn’t mean to sound as hurt as he did and when he met Yamamoto’s eyes, the guilt he felt intensified. Why was he telling him this? He wasn’t sure if it would show Yamamoto how important it was to accept himself for who he really was, but  _ it had to be done _ . Or did it? “But… I’m a  _ boy _ . Not a girl.”

“Wait, you’re breaking up with me because I’m not ready to tell people I’m with a boy?”

Fukunaga nodded, tears slipping out of his eyes like it was cool, which it was not. Hearing his feelings coming out of Yamamoto’s voice made him feel terrible, like he was the biggest asshole to ever walk the planet. Yamamoto deserved better than that, so maybe this really was for the best. Maybe Yamamoto could use this opportunity to get with a boy that knew how to help him accept this part of himself like he never could.

“What happened to it being okay that I didn’t know?” Yamamoto asked, a new emotion staining his features as he let go of his lover’s hand; anger. He felt angry and hurt. “ _ You _ told me it was fine! So w-why are you leaving because of something you said was fine? That doesn’t make any sense.”

The guilt consumed him and before he could reason with himself what the next course of action should be, he waved his hand dismissively.  _ Forget about it. We’re fine. _ And he shook his head.  _ I shouldn’t have brought it up. _

Yamamoto groaned in frustration. “You’re allowed to feel that way! I just don’t get why you’re leaving because of  _ this _ . I told you it would take a bit for me to be ready!”

“With a boy,”- Fukunaga gestured to himself- “there’s no joy.” He finished it off by solemnly placing his hand on Yamamoto’s heart. And with the wide eyes and the small gasp that emitted from the loud boy’s mouth, along with the lack of comments on his timing for ‘being weird’, he knew that Yamamoto had finally grasped what he had meant from the beginning.

Yamamoto nodded, pulling Fukunaga into a tight, quivering embrace. “But I  _ am _ happy with you! I just don’t  _ like _ that I am, if that makes any sense. ”

Fukunaga shook his head on Yamamoto’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his Yamamoto’s neck. That didn’t last long, however, as he pulled back just enough that he could see the other man’s sorrowful expression up close. Yamamoto was really beautiful, he acknowledged, and it was going to really suck not being able to get this close to him anymore. Oh, that meant there would be no more sweet kisses shared between them, something he was hoping would be appropriate to do right now. But since it wasn’t, he removed one arm from Yamamoto to point and poke at his now-exposed Adam’s apple on his craned neck.

Yamamoto’s eyebrows knitted together, showing that he was perplexed by the action. “I don’t get it,” he admitted, his eyes lingering on the fading dark marks on the taller boy’s neck. “Am I supposed to be looking for something specific or leaving more hickeys on you?” It took Fukunaga to shake his head and circle the lump for the ace to finally acknowledge what he needed to. “Your Adam’s apple?”

Fukunaga nodded and then used his other hand to gesture to Yamamoto’s Adam’s apple.  _ We both have them. Girls don’t. _

“Okay, I get your point, but I really like  _ you. _ ”

“A  _ boy _ .”

Yamamoto pulled out of the hug, irritated. “Why does that matter!? Why can’t I just be happy with you without you bringing that up!? Why is that so much to ask!?”

That was it then, huh? Yamamoto was never going to get it through his head that he liked guys, not even after he confessed to it last night. That was a fluke. The sex was a fluke. Their relationship was a fluke, a joke that just continued on and on, forever avoiding perhaps the most important part of it; accepting that it was real. Yamamoto would never stop reassuring him with false promises, and he would never stop believing them, even if it crushed him every time he was let down. And he would  _ always _ be let down.

It really had to be done.

“We should have waited for you to be ready before we started dating,” Fukunaga told him, regretfully, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yamamoto’s eyes widened and opened his mouth to argue, taking a deep breath for all he had to say. However, by the time he let the air go, his energy dissipated into nothing, his expression dispirited. Whatever ran through his head during that breath (or the energy used up by it) must have convinced him that it wasn’t worth the hassle because he stopped fighting the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

“So, you’re  _ a-actually _ leaving?” Yamamoto asked, defeated but dumbfounded. “There’s n-nothing I can do to m-make you stay with me?”

Fukunaga wiped away the tears from his ex-boyfriend’s face with his thumbs and shook his head, solemnly. But despite how close their faces were and how Yamamoto tried to catch his eye, he stared blankly at Yamamoto’s chest, wanting nothing more than to bury his face into it and cry. But now he couldn’t. He knew he would never be able to again, and that realization  _ crushed _ him because while he was removing himself from the bad in their relationship, he was unwillingly letting go of all the good that came from it. No more hugs, cuddles, kisses, smiles, sex, jokes, dates, nothing.

Nothing was all he was expecting to feel once this was done, once Yamamoto walked out of that door and symbolically ended their relationship. A part of him longed for everything to go back to how it was before this stupid talk, involuntarily making him reach out for Yamamoto’s now standing form. But before he made contact, he pulled back, not wanting Yamamoto to turn around and see what he was doing, much less  _ feel  _ what he was  _ going _ to do. It wouldn’t be fair to hurt him like this just to take it all back on a whim.

It was for the best, those words repeated in his head like a manta. He was doing what was best for both of them. And he needed to accept that before he hurt either of them even more by changing his mind.

Keeping his back to Fukunaga, Yamamoto lowered his head to look at floorboards beneath his shifting feet through his tears. “Do we stay friends?” he asked in a heart-wrenching attempt to stay calm. Not giving Fukunaga any time to actually respond, he let out a dark chuckle. “If I’m honest, I can’t do that. I can’t settle for just being your  _ friend _ . Not after everything we’ve done t-together, especially not with everything I wanted to do with you s-still in my brain.”

Fukunaga nodded, wiping tears of his own from his eyes. But when he realized that Yamamoto hadn’t seen him and that he had no strength in his legs to carry him to where Yamamoto could, he went against his better judgment and responded verbally. “Pretend.”

“How can I pretend to be your friend when all I want is to be your boyfriend!?”

“You tell me.”

Yamamoto whipped around with his jaw dropped, proving to Fukunaga that they were  _ both _ shocked by what had just slipped out past his lips. As if to erase what he had said from existence, his hand flew up to cover his mouth, but it was too late. They both heard it as shown when their widened eyes made contact that was almost immediately blurred out by the silent tears that rolled down their cheeks; Fukunaga’s out of guilt and relief that he had finally gotten his repressed feelings out, and Yamamoto’s for finally understanding what he had been doing to the former.

“Sho- I mean, F-Fukunaga, I didn’t… I sh-should’ve realized sooner, I don’t know  _ how _ I didn’t! Even two minutes ago, I thought you were just trying to rush me but you… I’m so sorry.”

Fukunaga stared, choking out a sob as Yamamoto enveloped him in a hug, inaudibly mumbling on and on through his wails, begging for forgiveness and sputtering up explanations. Fukunaga clung to him in a desperate plead for Yamamoto to stay with him, not stopping the shorter man when he had stolen sloppy, tear-soaked kisses from his lips.

By the time Yamamoto left, only two things had changed from the beginning of their talk: they were both single now and neither of them was going to school, practice, or the team hangout that day. Instead, they would remain shattered pieces of what they once were, laying inside the only places they had found sanctuary with each other. Forever the only people to have known that they were once together.

But maybe that was also for the best.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still wishing he had Fukunaga with him by his side, Yamamoto decides it's time to grow up and take things seriously as he believes he only has one shot at winning Fukunaga back. Will he be able to accept himself for who he is and solve the problems between them for good, or will he not have what it takes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that since the other two chapters were written from Fukunaga's perspective, I would write this one from Yamamoto's so everyone can see how this whole thing has been impacting him.
> 
> Please don't think I hate Yamamoto because of this. I actually really like him! :D

The next day, Yamamoto lay beneath the bar of the bench-press exhausted from how hard and fast he had been working out. With Kuroo as his spotter, he had been getting scolded the whole time for how reckless he had been. It really was a shame that he couldn’t care less about the words that came from his captain’s angered mouth because it would have saved them both the headache.

Sitting up, he accepted the bottle and towel Kuroo offered him and examined the room. Immediately, his eyes landed on Kenma who was doing bicep curls with Yaku, but it looked completely half-assed compared to the libero. Yamamoto envied Kenma. What he wanted more than anything right now was the ability to not care like the blonde did, just to be able to move past his strife with indifference. No, instead of taking after his friend, he continued to feel and overthink, torturing himself with ‘what if’ scenarios as he aggressively pumped some iron.

“What’s on your mind?” Kuroo asked him, his eyes also fixed on Kenma as he struggled to keep up with Yaku. “You’ve been off all day.”

“I haven’t been off. This is how I usually am.”

Kuroo snorted. “So, you usually think it’s best to bench-press without a spotter?”

Yamamoto rolled his eyes, not trying to hide the fact that he didn’t want to have this conversation. Especially with Kuroo. “Well, no, but-”

“And do you usually work out so sporadically? Or ignore your friends when they say ‘hi’?”

“Okay, no, I don’t usually do that, either!”

“So, then why are you acting so _off?_ ”

Yamamoto growled in frustration, something that did not go unnoticed by his captain. It took every ounce of his self-control to not start screaming or even start physically fighting Kuroo, but he didn’t know how long he would be able to hold back. Considering that training had started only half an hour ago, he was sure one of the two outcomes would become a reality, if not both. And it wasn’t because he hated Kuroo, he just didn’t want to talk to anyone. But mainly Kuroo who had the ability to fish through all the bullshit he spewed and find out what was really bothering him.

“I just had a bad day,” he told him, not necessarily lying but definitely dancing around the truth. This was something that Kuroo couldn’t know of, not unless Fukunaga told him it himself. But now there was something else that was bothering him, so much in fact that he bowed his head in an apology. “Sorry for not saying ‘hi’ when I came in. That was very rude of me.”

Kuroo’s yellow eyes landed on the second year, and he fondly ruffled his mohawk, startling the latter into returning his gaze. “Don’t sweat it; everyone has their days when they can’t stand to socialize. Unless you’re Kenma. Then it’s the opposite.”

Yamamoto chuckled lightly, his eyes returning to his fellow second year that was now being penalized by Yaku for giving up after only a few reps. He wondered if Fukunaga had said anything to Kenma about him or what happened between them yesterday, but he thought better of it. If the quiet boy hadn’t said anything about their relationship when they were together, he would have no reason to speak of it now that it was over. 

_I… I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore. I want to be your boyfriend._

Those words had haunted him all last night, tearing at his heart and driving his fist into his bedroom wall. How could he have been such an idiot!? Such a _selfish, ignorant_ idiot!? Fukunaga deserved better than the coward that thought himself brave for initiating a relationship he wasn’t ready for. And in doing so, he had wasted four precious months of Fukunaga’s life. Well, perhaps not the entirety of those four months, but enough that it was a problem.

Until their breakup yesterday, Yamamoto wouldn’t have ever considered himself a bad person. Awkward, sure, but not mean or crude. Now, all he could see in the mirror was a careless dictator, willing to make his boyfriend feel like he should be ashamed of his gender, so he didn’t have to face his problems. He let his lover, the man he claimed to care for most, feel guilty for wanting to come out of the shadows, even if it was only to hold his hand when they were alone outside at night.

Without even realizing, he had become the type of lover that he swore he would never be and his victim stood across the room, doing his best to silently motivate Lev through another squat. Watching Fukunaga act so unaffected, so calm, reminded him of the last comment the taller boy made of their relationship:

_You tell me._

There was a bitterness laced into those words that Yamamoto didn’t know Fukunaga could ever feel. The latter was sweet, patient, and funny, but he could feel insecure and sad, and yet no one would ever think to describe him as bitter because he never acted that way before. That had to mean that he saw the world in a positive light until Yamamoto held him down, forcibly showing him the wrong in his beliefs. The tone had even surprised Fukunaga, implying it wasn’t something he intended Yamamoto to hear, rather he wanted to keep it to himself. And if it came out by mistake, he must have been working hard to hold it back.

“Come on, Lev, stop slacking!” Kuroo ordered from his spot next to Yamamoto, scaring the living shit out of the ace. “You too, Kenma! There're other workouts you still need to do!”

Both Lev and Kenma let out groans of defiance, causing Kuroo to mutter a quick apology to Yamamoto and march over there to straighten them out. Without any more supervision or attention on himself, Yamamoto took that as an opportunity to slip out. However, when he turned back on his heel to slowly close the door behind him, he met Fukunaga’s curious gaze and froze on the spot for a moment.

That was absolutely terrifying. But it didn’t take him long to forget about that inconvenience when Fukunaga nodded to him and cocked his head to the side, confused. _Where are you going?_

Yamamoto groaned at how cute his boyfrien- his _ex_ -boyfriend was. Was this a trap? Was this a ploy to get him caught by Kuroo or Yaku, so he couldn’t leave? Why did he want to know where he was going? Would he follow him out if he was going some place interesting? Well, it didn’t matter even if he was going to the coolest place on the planet because his mind went blank, making him forget everything aside from how it would feel to hold Fukunaga in his arms again.

Fukunaga put a hand over his eyes. _You should stop staring._

Yamamoto blinked. That would be a good thing to do, wouldn’t it? It wasn’t like Fukunaga was _his_ to stare at anymore, anyways. This was going to be a lot harder than he had once anticipated. Pointing down the hallway, he mouthed, “home.” He had to admit it broke him inside to see Fukunaga nod and wave him goodbye before heading back to Lev to help him with the leg press. 

Choosing to take what little good he could get, he left for home.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The day after that, Yamamoto had lost his shit on a teacher who penalized him for being late, resulting in detention after school. He thought that was bullshit. She was the one who didn’t care to listen to his reasoning behind his tardiness before lecturing him in front of his peers. It was so rude and inconsiderate! Now, he was rumoured to be ‘finally living up to his delinquent get-up’ and he was sure to hear all about it from his parents and sister.

In detention, all he could care to think about was Fukunaga. Stifling a yawn (a symptom of his new-found sleeping problem that his teacher couldn’t care less to hear him out on), he pulled out his phone and clicked on Fukunaga’s contact that was labelled **‘Shohei’**. He laughed to himself fondly as he recalled Fukunaga’s teasing about how unoriginal the name was, even if to Yamamoto, it was perfect. 

There was the symbolic meaning to him when he changed it from **‘Fukunaga’** to its current name as he did it once they had grown closer, and he started calling the quiet boy by his first name. Would he have to change it back to what it was before since they were no longer going to be talking like they did? Should he just delete the number? Either way, it hurt him to even consider the idea of changing something that indicated that things were once great between them. When he hadn’t screwed it up yet.

As he predicted, when he got home, his family let him have it. And yet again, he fought back. They didn’t have the right to talk down on him like that since they had no idea what he was going through. Then again, that was on him for being a dumbass and keeping it a secret from them. He apologized and blamed it on not getting enough sleep, so he took a nap immediately after the discussion. When he woke up at 11:00, he did some homework, ate half a bowl of cereal, and then went back to sleep.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

On the third day, it was Friday, which meant that he was hurting more than usual, knowing that he would be alone tonight. The same went for the weekend too. All three days were days he either spent with his friends or just alone with Fukunaga, the latter being the one he preferred. However, he wasn’t looking forward to the times when he would have to stay home with his family due to lacking any reason to abandon them for his ex-boyfriend’s house.

In his room, he lay on his bed and was absentmindedly scrolling through his camera roll to pass the time until dinner was ready. He had gone to practise after school, but once again left early after he supposedly ‘got sick’ after interacting with Fukunaga and so now he was bored. 

That was until he passed a few pictures he couldn’t remember taking. Perhaps that was due to him being asleep in all of them, presumably at one of the sleep overs between him and Fukunaga. The background sure looked like Fukunaga’s bedroom. The theory was confirmed further when in the fifth picture he saw, Fukunaga’s eye and forehead could be seen in the bottom right corner of the screen. That was both startling and adorable at the same time. Scrolling through the next few, he found that they varied between having Fukunaga not being in the shot at all, and doing cute or stupid poses with his sleeping form. How did he not know about these?

Curious, he clicked a button on his gallery menu bar to see the details of the last picture he was on that featured Fukunaga snuggling up to his chest, a small happy smile on his face. He couldn’t help but grin and feel all fuzzy inside from seeing how adorable the strange boy was. But his mouth fell open when he saw the date the cute selfie had been taken, nearly dropping his phone.

It was taken four days ago at 6:37 pm. Hang on a second! Wasn’t that the day they…? Upon further inspection of each of the photos individually, he found that his suspicions were undoubtedly correct. In every one of them, he was shirtless with a few hickeys lining the column of his neck, while Fukunaga’s neck and collar bone were littered with hickeys, the rest of the fresh marks covered by a baggy T-shirt. _His_ T-shirt. Holy shit, these were taken the night they lost their virginities to each other.

Now, that was so _hot._

Feeling himself start to react from seeing Fukunaga like that, he sat up in his bed and decided that he would be late down to dinner. He hesitated when he reached into his nightstand and felt the bottle of lube he was looking for. Was it okay to do this? It wasn’t as if this was the first time he would have jerked off to the thought of Fukunaga, but those times were all when they were dating. So, was he a creeper for doing it to the thought of him now? He wanted to say ‘no’ and get on with it, but instead he sighed and closed the door, opting for a cold shower instead.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It took until day four for Yamamoto to even _consider_ his sexuality. He figured he had to, seeing as that was why Fukunaga had broken up with him in the first place, so he decided the bathroom was the best place to see. And it wasn’t like he had Fukunaga to hang out with today, anyways, meaning he had the house to himself for a few hours to figure this shit out.

He knew he liked girls, that much was obvious. They had such pretty faces, they smelled good, they wore the cutest clothes, their bodies were very nice to admire, their voices were higher-pitched and dreamy, and their diction made them sound so sophisticated compared to their male counterparts. They used their brains and listened to them instead of their hormones, which was something that he liked, despite him being a pretty hormonal guy. Overall, they were all so sweet and smart, and it made him unnecessarily nervous.

On that note, did he like guys? Well, he liked Fukunaga, and the latter had made him feel all sorts of uncomfortable, sweaty, and overwhelmed before. But it wasn’t like he thought of any other guys like that before. So, was he only gay for one dude, or was that due to him never meeting another one that was attractive? The latter couldn’t be it because many members from his team were good-looking, just not enough to melt him into a puddle of anxiety like Fukunaga did, apparently.

Then again, he never let himself really focus on the benefits that came with dating a guy before he started liking Fukunaga.

Oh, _Fukunaga._

His mind wandered back to when they had sex on Fukunaga’s bed five days ago. The way the bed rocked in tune with his every thrust inside of Fukunaga’s ass, the sound of skin slapping and their grunts and moans (muffled, in Fukunaga’s case) filling the room. He could feel his pants get a little tighter as he pictured it. God, Fukunaga was hot and the faces he was making as he got pounded into were indescribable, certainly making up for the lack of vocal responses from him.

Now fully hard, he persuaded himself that it wasn’t a violation to masturbate to Fukunaga because it couldn’t hurt him in any way. It wasn’t like he was forcing the quiet boy to have sex with him. However, once he dropped his pants and boxers to his ankles, he hesitated once more, deciding to do something he didn’t do very often, something he was only willing to do for Fukunaga: he used his brain to search for logic, not emotion.

If he didn’t like guys, why was he in such a rush to masturbate to one? Not to mention that it was a guy that had got him hard, initially. Was he bisexual? Well, he had never had sex with a girl before, but he knew he liked them, and yet, he had sex with Fukunaga and now all his sexual fantasies had drifted to him solely. And Fukunaga was a _boy_ , he reminded himself. In all actuality, he was shocked by how hot _touching_ Fukunaga was; the way he felt in his hand, the way he reacted to being touched like that.

Huh. Well, considering the fact that he started pumping himself desperately during this recollection, he must have meant it when he told Fukunaga that he definitely liked guys as well. Why else would he have said that if he didn’t enjoy himself when railing a _boy? A very cute and sexy _boy, at that.__

Yamamoto finished himself off and cleaned up before he pulled his clothes back up and made his way back to his room. Back on his bed, he felt more relaxed than he had these past few days, having finally gave in to the sensual temptation. But it had more to do with the fact that he had been thinking about his ex in such a way, and didn’t feel disgusted with himself afterwards. No, he felt relieved, perhaps elated by this realization. That is until he thought about other people finding out…

Would they judge him? His friends? Family? Random people? Would they all degrade him for being something so _wrong?_ He scrunched up his nose in thought. Fukunaga definitely wouldn’t think of him any worse than he did for being a coward, and he wasn’t sure about the rest of Nekoma. Kuroo and Kenma wouldn’t care and Kuroo would probably try to throw some party for him, anyways. He smiled to himself. That would be nice. Now that he thought about it, the rest of the team most likely wouldn’t think much of it either with how they all asked if he reached all of his milestones with a girl or a boy.

Why did he have to say Fukunaga was a girl!? He’d be happier had he just told the truth, which was why starting today, he wasn’t running away anymore. He would use today and Sunday to work on convincing himself that his family wouldn’t be disappointed in him, and that strangers would simply mind their business.

He was going to make things right on Monday or die trying! Even if there was a chance that Fukunaga wouldn’t take him back. He would at least try for him, show him that he did care about what he said and that he was willing to do anything to make them work.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Once Monday hit, his courage had faltered, his confidence had vanished. How in the hell was he supposed to do this? In his mind, he was going to walk right up to Fukunaga and say it before he fled, that being the most agreeable plan he had come up with. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how or when he would get Fukunaga alone long enough for that. It wasn’t as if they actually talked anymore, unless someone was watching, that is.

“Fuck,” he muttered anxiously to himself, staring down the analogue clock in his classroom, his leg bouncing under his desk. There were twelve minutes left until the end of school and the beginning of practise, and he still had nothing to say. He had used his lunch break to do the school work he had failed to complete in class, but was that what he was actually doing? Sure, every once in a while he would write something down, but not enough to say that he was being productive.

He thought about actually talking with Fukunaga again like they used to, and he started to feel a little woozy. What if he said the wrong thing and made things worse between them? What if he got tongue-tied? What if he came out to him, and it wasn’t enough? What if Fukunaga had already moved on and was seeing someone else that wasn’t controlling like he was? What if Fukunaga was happier now and his overdue confession guilt-tripped him into settling for him again?

Suddenly, something that Kenma had told him last year made its way to the front of his brain. They had been hanging out with Fukunaga when Yamamoto brought up that he was going to fail a presentation due to forgetting his words when he was stressed. Kenma, without looking up from his game had simply told him to write what he wanted to say on paper and look at it for reference. He ended up doing really well on that presentation, so he bought Kenma a new video game as a way to express his thanks.

Figuring he could apply that same technique to his current situation, he pulled out a piece of paper from his binder and thought on what he wanted to write. 

_I’m bisexual?_ Sure, he’d probably forget the words for that, so he jotted it down. It felt weird to see it on the paper, knowing that it was him that wrote it. He still had yet to outwardly admit to it, which made it hard for him to peel his judgmental eyes away from the phrase on the page, his hand starting to shake a little. He took a deep breath.

 _‘It’s the truth,’_ he mentally told himself, the words feeling like cinder blocks that weighed everything down, including his eyes that were glued to the page. _‘You jerked off to a guy on the weekend. The same guy that you fucked last week. You liked fucking him. You liked holding him. You liked protecting him. You like_ him _. You want your boyfriend back.’_

Determination alone brought his hand to write more things down, words that he ultimately decided were more important than anything else for Fukunaga to hear from him. Words that he had continuously manipulated to suit his fancy, hurting Fukunaga and chipping away at their relationship. He was going to make things right and Fukunaga was going to listen. Everyone was going to listen if that was what it took to ease the quiet boy’s aching heart.

Hey, that gave him an idea as to-

The bell rang loudly, signalling that he was out of time to write more things down, unless he made it to the gym on before anyone else. Hurriedly, he threw everything on his desk into his bag and bolted out the door, ignoring the lecture his teacher had started in regard to his actions. He pushed past innocent students and jumped down as many stairs as he could. There was more he needed to write, more he needed to tell Fukunaga, and he would be damned if he left any of it out of his apology.

Catching sight of the gymnasium, his legs pushed him faster. Who was he to care if Kuroo got mad at him for using up his energy before practise even started? It wasn’t like the captain knew why he was doing this and why it was so important for him to do so, so really, he had no say in this. As long as he still participated, he did nothing wrong. He would just be a little off in the beginning, but he would catch up with the others in no time.

Swinging open the door, Yamamoto dashed inside and found sanctuary in the locker room before he pulled his paper and pencil back out. He knew he would only have a few minutes to do this, so he had to get to work quick- no fucking way. It was impossible. There was no way that he just heard the door open again. How did anyone get there as fast as he did? He almost died running, so did someone else have something they needed to have set up, resulting in them racing to get in too?

Deciding he could still get _some_ work done, he started writing more things down. Until he heard the footsteps that were quickly approaching him as he sat on the floor in front of one of the benches. Turning his head to see who was responsible for this, he was met with the curious face of Kuroo, the latter’s eyes trying to see what lay in front of the second year.

“That thing from last week is still bugging you, huh?” Kuroo asked, setting his own bag down on an adjacent bench. He chuckled lightly at the confused look that was shot his way. “You’re never here this early. In fact, you’re usually _late_.”

Despite the joking demeanour and maybe even sternness behind Kuroo’s words, Yamamoto could tell there was a certain sincerity that he could trust. Looking back, he recalled that Kuroo had been keeping an eye on him during practises and training, sometimes asking him questions about his day, sometimes in complete silence. Regardless, the middle blocker had been paying extra attention to him, and he was happy to know that Kuroo cared, not that he had ever really questioned it.

He nodded, confirming his captain’s assumption as he hid the piece of paper under his crossed arms on the bench. “But I’m over feeling sorry for myself, y’know? I want to fix things.”

“I won’t ask you to tell me what it is if you’d rather keep that to yourself.” Now whether Kuroo was referring to Yamamoto’s problem or his paper was beyond the latter. But it didn’t really matter when he sat down beside his bag, his eyes soft and friendly as they looked at his underclassman. “But is there anything I can do to help? Or at least to make your job easier?”

Yamamoto was taken aback, his forehead wrinkling slightly from his raised eyebrows. He wondered what Kuroo could get out of helping him with this but couldn’t wrap his head around it. If anything, it was more unnecessary work for the middle blocker, yet the older man had told him and his team time and time again that it was his job as the captain to help them as much as possible. And clearly by how patiently he awaited an answer, Kuroo was still taking that job very seriously.

Yamamoto let out a frustrated sigh. How could Kuroo help him with his captainly powers? He was about to shut him down and tell him he could handle it on his own when something came to mind. “I just don’t… yeah. Yes, you can help, I mean. Could you, like, I don’t know, maybe… tell the t-team there’s an important meeting or something like that?”

“Sure thing. Anything else?”

Surprised but not complaining about how compliant Kuroo was, he thought up something else that he would like his upperclassman to do. “Yeah, just keep them out of here until I’m ready? I need to finish something off, and then I’ll be out.”

Kuroo nodded. “You got it.”

As if on cue, the door opened and in came pairs of feet and a few conversations, the door closing and then opening once again for the rest of the team. Kuroo sent him a salute before he walked out into the main entryway, saying something about everyone going into the gym for a meeting and to wait in there for further instructions. Yamamoto exhaled relieved when the questioning voices fled to the gym away from where he was, and he reminded himself to thank the captain for helping him out.

Removing his appendages from his notes, he gulped when he read everything he had written down. How was he supposed to say this to Fukunaga in front of everyone else!? Sure it was his decision to do it in front of the others, but now he wanted to step down and apologize to everyone for wasting their time. However, he knew that it would mean a lot more to Fukunaga if he proved his words true when he said he was ready to come out from hiding; the team’s presence would be essential to that plan. 

Glancing to the two words at the top of his note, he wondered how it would feel to say it. It was probably best for him to do this on his own before he froze in front of his peers like an idiot. Looking around him to make sure no one had secretly sneaked into the locker room without his knowledge, he inhaled deeply, letting out a shuddered breath.

And then he did it again. And again. And again. And again, postposing it as much as he could.

“I… I’m b-bi… I’m b-bisexual.”

He reluctantly opened one of his eyes that he had squeezed shut. Was that it? That wasn’t too bad, he supposed. If anything, he felt a little better about it all. But would this actually change anything? Would him growing a set make Fukunaga pardon his five-month mishap? Would Fukunaga still have issues with him once he does it? He didn’t know the answer to any of those questions and although that paralyzed him with fear, he knew it would be the best thing he could do.

There was still the chance that he would get his boyfriend back from this, and that was all that mattered. Well, aside from him having finally accepting himself for who he truly was.

Slapping himself in the face to sharpen his senses, he opened both eyes and grabbed his piece of paper, making his way to the gym where his team all sat in front of a standing Kuroo. All of their backs to him, aside from Kuroo. He made eye contact with the captain and pointed to Fukunaga before pointing up, confusing Kuroo at first. But when he mouthed the words ‘stand up’ while gesturing at Fukunaga, Kuroo nodded in understanding.

“Okay, we can get going now, everyone,” Kuroo started slowly, the rest of the team appearing less bored and dead as they were while he stalled for Yamamoto. His eyes then fell to Fukunaga, surprising the second year. “Fukunaga, can you stand up for a sec?”

“Why does he need to stand?” Lev asked, perplexed. “I thought this was a meeting.”

Kuroo shrugged. “It is a meeting… of sorts. Now, let’s go, Fukunaga. Come on, get up.”

Confused but curious to see what would come from following his captain’s orders, Fukunaga got to his feet. Kuroo then waved him over to the front of the group where he was standing, and once Kuroo had sat down next to Kai, Fukunaga and Yamamoto had made eye contact. The ace was torn between stopping just to stare at Fukunaga in all his glory or to turn on his heel and bail. 

Unfortunately, the others had seen the intrigued, yet hurt look on Fukunaga’s face and so their eyes all landed on Yamamoto, subconsciously dragging him from where he was to where his ex-boyfriend was standing in wait. He held tight to the dampening paper in his sweaty and unsteady hand as he apprehensively approached the group and made it to his destination. Now, all he had to do was speak, just say the words he should have said a while ago.

Except it wasn’t as easy as that. He surveyed his team to find that every single pair of eyes was on him, watching him, waiting for him to make a complete and utter fool of himself when he would succumb to the pressure. Lowering his eyes to his notes, he took a few deep breaths, fearful of his peers reactions to his announcement, even though he knew that they wouldn’t be bothered by it. Those words at the top of the page screamed at him to back down, to go sit with his team and wait awkwardly for Kuroo to get the hint that he wasn’t doing it anymore. 

However, he didn’t go through all of this bullshit just to give up at the moment of truth.

“E-everyone,” Yamamoto started, his voice trying to compete with his hands with how shaky they could get. He was sure he looked like he was going to pass out because that was how he was feeling, his heart rate accelerating to the point he was getting lightheaded from his breathing. He gulped. His eyes raised to his team but landed on Fukunaga, who had taken a step closer to him for some reason. Deciding to take that as good news, he continued. “I m-may have… uh… l-l-lied about something.”

Lev, unaware that he was just supposed to listen and nothing else, gasped. “What did you lie- ow!”

“Shut up and let him tell us, you moron,” Yaku barked, retracting his hand from Lev’s side.

“That was rude!”

“I said, _shut up!_ ”

After waiting a moment for those two to settle down, Yamamoto turned to Kuroo who nodded, informing him that it was okay for him to keep going. He shuddered. “I, um, I think I… uh…” He let it trail off, having forgotten what he had wanted to say. So, everyone sat in an awkward, expectant silence until Fukunaga pointed to the paper in his hand. Feeling like an idiot, he let out a half-laugh, half-gargle before he lifted the paper to his face. Reading the words to himself, he exhaled and fixed his gaze on Fukunaga. “B-bisexual.”

Fukunaga’s eyes widened and his jaw fell open. He anxiously darted his eyes to the rest of the team in an attempt to remind Yamamoto that they were all still here, and they all heard what he said. Yamamoto felt guilty for how accustomed to hiding Fukunaga had become for him. It was disgusting, really. But he couldn’t get mad at himself right now, not when he had made the biggest step in his life in front of all his friends. He nodded to Fukunaga, confirming his knowledge of their presence, and he saw a glint of hope in the quiet boy’s eyes as he softly gasped.

After a moment or so of tense silence, there was the sound of gentle, slow applause. Confused, Yamamoto - and the rest of the team, evidently - gave his attention to the sight of Kenma clapping for him. Yamamoto felt tears trail down his cheeks, but not for the same reason as before. Not even _close_. The rate of which they fell intensified when Kuroo joined in, then Yaku, then Shibayama, and soon everyone else. Lev had even let out some cheers of congratulations that Inuoka accompanied him with, the latter even standing up for emphasis. Soon it was a standing ovation for his admitted self-discovery, and he couldn’t understand what he did to deserve friends as amazing as them.

He felt a tapping on his shoulder and turned his head to see Fukunaga in front of him, a watery smile of adoration clinging to his face, and a thumbs-up for Yamamoto’s success. Without even thinking, Yamamoto captured Fukunaga in a tight embrace, letting out a choked sob at the familiar feeling and smell of the boy in his arms. God, how he missed this. Fukunaga returned the gesture, rubbing his back and whispering, “I’m so proud of you” into his ear, resulting in him getting squished against him more.

“If it’s okay to ask, how did you figure this out?” Kai asked approaching the pair once the celebration had died down a bit. But there was an abrupt silence after the question was asked, all eyes on Kai and then on Yamamoto once again.

Hesitantly pulling away from Fukunaga, Yamamoto looked back down at his notes for guidance. Every word instructed him to come clean about his relationship with Fukunaga, and he could tell by the uncertain look in said boy’s eyes that that was what he needed to do. Trusting his memory to not abandon him, he took a moment to consider what he would say and how he would say it, his eyes meeting those of his team. He was all too aware of the different ways he could screw this up, but recalling the hug he just broke off, he knew it would be okay as long as he was honest.

He swiped at his nose and eyes in hopes that with the tears and snot gone, he would be able to speak more efficiently. Without his voice failing him, at least. Not that his plan worked. “Well, you know how I s-said that I, uh, lost my f-first, well, _everything_ to these really hot girls?” At his team’s nod, he continued. “That was also a lie. I, um, lost all of that stuff with a b-b-boy.”

“Three guesses who,” Inuoka snorted, causing all but Yamamoto and Fukunaga to snicker.

“Eh!? What the hell is that supposed to mean, you brat!?” Yamamoto demanded, only making them, and now Fukunaga as well, laugh more. “What is so funny about this!?”

“Calm down,” Kuroo instructed, playfully. “Nobody means any offence. It’s just we can assume who your partner in crime is from how much you stare at him literally _every day.”_

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Yamamoto’s face reddened more so from his embarrassment than his anger and he didn’t dare face the giggling boy who stood beside him. “I don’t stare at Fukunaga every day!”

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“Ha! No one said it was Fukunaga!” Lev exclaimed, teasingly, as if it wasn’t obvious.

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“Wait, so how did you know I did all of that with him?” Yamamoto turned to Fukunaga accusingly, but the latter shook his head to let him know that he didn’t say anything to the team. That was good because he would have been pissed if Fukunaga broke his promise just because they stopped dating each other. 

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“We didn’t. We just figured that if you were ever going to do anything like that with a guy, it’d be with Fukunaga,” Kuroo explained, simply. “Only now did we find out that you two were messing around and going on dates and stuff.”

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Lev groaned, childishly. “It was so obvious you two liked each other and it was so frustrating just watching you act like nothing was up!”

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“Yeah, imagine how _I_ felt,” Kenma complained, completely undermining Lev’s statement and not taking the time to care. “For the longest time, all he would talk about was Shohei this and Shohei that. It was kind of cute at first, but it got _very_ annoying, _very_ quickly.” His face scrunched up in a grimace at Yamamoto when he acknowledged something that had been addressed earlier. “Wait, does that mean when you were going off about him last week, you meant you two… _Ew.”_

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“Being a virgin, it’s expected that you’d be grossed out by it,” Yamamoto said coolly. “It really is a _shame_ that I don’t know what that’s like anymore.”

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“It’s more of a _surprise_ than anything, if you ask me,” Kenma scoffed with a roll of his eyes, ignoring the glare that Yamamoto shot him. “Shohei, why would you settle for this _loser?”_

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Yamamoto was about to argue but lost his drive the moment those words sunk in. He knew that it wasn’t Kenma’s intention to remind how unworthy he was of Fukunaga, but that was where his mind was now. Why did Fukunaga not only stay with him for so long, but give him something so sacred to him, something Fukunaga said he only wanted to give someone he truly loved? This led Yamamoto to figure it was because Fukunaga either _loved him, or felt pressured to give up his body to keep Yamamoto happy._

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His heart nearly stopped beating. Yamamoto didn’t pressure him, did he? He couldn’t remember doing that, seeing as whenever Fukunaga wanted to stop, Yamamoto was a step ahead of him. In fact, when he told Fukunaga that he was finally ready for sex, Fukunaga was already sitting in his lap, making out with him and eagerly tugging at his shirt to take it off of him. If anything, Fukunaga was ready to go all the way before he was. 

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So that only left the option that Fukunaga loved-

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“He’s funny,” Fukunaga answered with a blush, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And cute.”

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“So you _slept_ with him!?” Kenma asked, horrified, his eyes wide as he made his way over to Fukunaga. He jabbed Fukunaga in the chest with a skinny finger, disregarding the fact that Yamamoto lost his virginity the exact same way as he had. “Were you just so desperate to lose your virginity that you slept with a guy you weren’t even dating!?”

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“Actually, we were,” Yamamoto blurted out, much to everyone’s - including his own - surprise. 

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In his revised plan, he was going to bring up their relationship in a more romantic way, not when they were discussing why they shouldn’t have had sex. But now it was out in the open with everyone looking as shocked as possible by the fact. He was sure that Fukunaga was shocked because he never would have expected him to ever be open about it. And yet here he was. Maybe this would make Fukunaga happier and more likely to _settle_ , as Kenma had put it.

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Yaku cocked his head to the side after he had managed to recover from hearing the unexpected news. “You guys are dating? Since when?”

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Yamamoto quickly glimpsed to Fukunaga as if to ask for his permission to confirm it, but then he thought against it, looking back at Yaku. If Fukunaga needed him to man up and tell people of his relationship to him while they were together, he assumed that would still apply afterwards. And even if it got him nowhere with Fukunaga, he wasn’t going to let him believe he was ashamed of what they had. Not anymore.

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“Well, we _were_ dating. For almost five months. But he dumped me for being a selfish coward with telling everyone I was straight when I had a boyfriend.” On that note, Yamamoto returned his gaze back to his ex, the latter’s eyes wide, clearly not expecting there to be anything said to him. “You were nothing but understanding until the end and I only wish you would have said something sooner, so you wouldn’t have had to spend that whole time feeling like I didn’t want you. Especially since after thinking long and hard about it, I’ve decided that I love that you’re a guy. And I think… I think I love _you._ ” Dropping his notes to the floor and confidently taking both of Fukunaga’s quivering hands in his own, he continued, his eyes never straying from the leaky ones of his lover. “I love you so much, Shohei, and I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you. I’ll tell everyone that we’re dating, and I will tell them that I love you! I will do anything for you and this time, _I mean it._ No more lies or getting your hopes up with false promises. But if I break any more promises, we’ll be done for good. But for now, all you need to do is say the word. Assuming that you would be interested in giving us one more try, that is.”

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Fukunaga’s gaze dropped to their hands, holding Yamamoto's as he chewed on his lip in thought. His eyes occasionally would transfer to their audience and Yamamoto realized how much pressure this put on him. He was a nice kid who just wanted to say his nonsensical jokes, not hurt or embarrass people in front of those who mattered to them. Did that mean that if he said yes now, he would take it back once they were private? Yamamoto sure as hell hoped not, knowing that would crush him more than if he was just told ‘no’ right now. 

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By meeting Yamamoto’s eyes, Fukunaga indicated that he had come to a decision. And before Yamamoto could verbally prod for the answer, he was tugged towards the taller boy into a kiss. His head was spinning. He didn’t realize how much he had missed kissing until he felt Fukunaga responding to the movement of his own lips. The kiss didn’t last very long, due to the cheers erupting from the group now surrounding them.

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They pulled away and immediately Fukunaga flung his arms around Yamamoto’s neck. At first, he snaked his arms around Fukunaga’s waist and chuckled under the assumption that the former was nuzzling against his head. Until he realized that the boy was actually nodding in response to his dating proposal. Beaming, he let out a cheer of his own before swinging Fukunaga around in a circle, making the both of them laugh.

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Once Fukunaga was put down and they had shared another kiss, Kuroo cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention back onto himself.

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“As happy as I am for you two being absolutely adorable and agreeing to work things out,” he began, slow and calm. “We still have practise. So everyone better get their asses to the change room, so we can get started!”

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“Right!” the rest of the team answered, doing as they were told.

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Fukunaga made a move for Yamamoto’s hand but pulled away before it reached its goal. Yamamoto noticed this and snatched the retreating hand, holding onto it with a proud grin clinging to his features. Unfortunately, the journey wasn’t long enough for them, even when purposely slowing down to have more time because Kuroo had barked at them to hurry up. 

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Separating in the change room, they had relocated their belongings to ensure they were now next to each other. Yamamoto knew he couldn’t hide the blush crawling up his neck when Fukunaga had stripped himself of his shirt, but he also couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched when he did the same. Meeting the eye of his admiring neighbour, he quirked an eyebrow in amusement until Fukunaga had wiggled his finger, telling him to come closer. Assuming it was a kiss, he happily obliged. However, he was stopped by a hand on the chest and Fukunaga studying the terrain. Why was he doing that?

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The answer was very clear once Fukunaga found that nobody was paying them any mind. The quiet boy pointed to the back of his wrist, to himself and Yamamoto, and then the door. _When we leave here…_ He then connected his thumb and first finger to form an ‘o’ with his hand before sticking the first finger of his other hand inside it. For fear that Yamamoto hadn’t caught the meaning, he even went out of his way to pull the digit out and then shove it back in. _We should have sex._

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Yamamoto’s throat went dry and his face had been decorated with a lovely shade of red, but nonetheless, he nodded. Probably _too_ eagerly. Fukunaga grinned, pleased by his response and continued changing into his jersey, much to Yamamoto’s dismay: he looked so good with less clothing. He knew he needed to stop thinking about that and their Monday night plans (he wasn’t going to remind Fukunaga it was a school night, just in case he would be told to wait until Friday to get some) or else he would have to face the consequence of playing with something stiff between his legs.

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“Tomato,” Fukunaga stated, poking Yamamoto’s cheek. “Very ripe.”

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Yamamoto scrunched up his face, trying to comprehend what his boyfriend meant by that. He wasn’t a ‘very ripe tomato’, he was a _man_ . Fukunaga’s boyfriend, too, at that. “... _What?_ ” However, instead of clarifying what his weird brain had allowed to be said out loud, Fukunaga poked him again and returned his focus back to changing into his jersey. While he loved Fukunaga and all his quirks, he couldn’t deny just how _strange_ he was.

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Now fully dressed, the team marched out into the gymnasium all fired up to start playing. Fukunaga took Yamamoto’s hand, entangling their fingers with a satisfied smile and kissed his boyfriend on the cheek. Shibayama made a comment about how their cuteness would be a distraction for everyone, but they both shrugged it off. They were going to be as cute as Fukunaga wanted them to be, Yamamoto internally argued as he led his lover to the opposite side of the net.

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Now in position and ready for when the game was called on, Fukunaga poked Yamamoto on the shoulder, an innocent expression on his face. 

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“I love you, too, Tora,” he told him as if Yamamoto had made the initial claim now rather than way earlier. 

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Yamamoto’s jaw dropped, but it was quickly brought up into a bright smile. That is, until a ball hit him square in his face, the shock of it knocking him on his ass.

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“God damn it, Yamamoto, pay attention!” Kuroo bellowed, already done with their bullshit. “And Fukunaga, stop distracting him! We are here to get shit done so save that for afterwards!”

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And although Yamamoto wanted to cry from how hard that ball had hit his nose and wanted to yell back at his captain for serving the ball straight into his face, he was still filled up to the brim with pure elation. He stared like a lovesick fool when Fukunaga helped him up and apologized for getting him hurt.

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High on life, Yamamoto beamed at his boyfriend. “Seeing as it gave me an excuse to touch you, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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Another ball was served into his gut, knocking him back down.

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For the next ten minutes, the rest of the team carried on with the game distraction free while Yamamoto lay on the floor with his head on Fukunaga’s lap. Through his pain, they lazily spoke and flirted with each other, and when Fukunaga let out the most disgusting snort he had ever heard in his life, they both laughed even harder. And seeing his lover like this, so happy and lively with no pain hidden in his eyes, Yamamoto sighed, content and in love.

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This really was for the best.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never had to come out to anyone before so i hope I did this okay and didn't offend anyone!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this!


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